


Look Right Through Me

by Kookerz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I dont think I'll ever finish this, It was just a silly idea, M/M, Mental Health Issues, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kookerz/pseuds/Kookerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 years ago, a fire took away everything Dean Winchester cherished. Blamed for the damage, Dean is sent to mental hospital to cure his "illness." The only problem is, Dean doesn't initially have an illness.</p><p>They gave him one.</p><p>The fire wasn't Dean's fault, but he knows who did it. Or at least, what they look like. When Castiel is hired to St. Adler's, he wasn't expecting to get sucked into this. Running from his own past, Castiel befriends the strange patient, but this wasn't what he was expecting. Dean knows the truth, and it's up to Castiel to break through his walls and figure it out.</p><p>But not everyone is willing to let the truth come out.<br/>-cue explosions and guitar solos-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snarkymonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymonkey/gifts).



> Don't mind me, just sobbing quietly in the corner remembering when I had at least a small smudge of talent in my body.
> 
> This is basically just some piece of crap story my brain vomited because I read too much of Snarky's stuff. And I email her too much. And her stories make my brain create bad things. Very bad things.
> 
> Things locked in Lucifer's cage, and Snarky sold her soul and made a deal with Death to have this released.  
> NO WAIT SNARKY DOESN'T HAVE A SOUL.  
> SHE IS A DEMON.
> 
> -sobs-
> 
> Also, this isn't finished, and most likely never will be -snorts-

^

  
_Fire. **Fire**_

_Smoke. So much **smoke**_  
“Help!”

A voice echoes down the hall. But the boy doesn’t stop running, feet pounding on the ember tainted carpet as he races through the flames, eyes burning, and lungs screaming.

“Help! Please…I can’t”, the voice trails off, coughing, “I can’t…breathe!”

_Keep going. Don’t look back. You’ll make it. Everything is fine. Don’t look. Don’t. Breathe._

The boy bursts through the front door, scanning the trees desperately, looking for any possible hidden paths of exit. He jumps down the porch steps and presses a hand to his chest, eyes heavy, but focused.

_Time is running out. Time. **Run.**_

A path makes itself known as the house behind him erupts in an explosion of fire. The sound leaves a constant ringing, insistent and loud, and he covers his ears, pain exploding through his head. Glass rains down from the sky, flames escaping through every shattered window. He hears another high-pitched noise, recognizing it slightly as the sound of sirens rushing towards him. But his gaze is locked on the house slowly burning to the ground in front of him.

_Memories. Pictures. Family_

**_Gone_ **

He hadn’t meant to. It wasn’t supposed to – he thought he could – _why?_  
He is vaguely aware of the faint, distorted, sound of screeching tires as they brake to a stop in front of his house. _Well, what’s left of it_. But the world is slowly fading away, black shadows sweeping through and claiming his vision.

**_Gone_ **

^

  
John Winchester bolted upright in bed, breathing hard, sweat dripping off his forehead. He looked around the room, panicking instantly at the unfamiliarity of it. No family portraits, no discarded toys, no crayon markings covering the walls. Pressing a hand to his forehead, his brain took a few seconds to fully awaken before he registered his surroundings, relaxing faintly. He hadn’t dreamt of the fire that way in a while. The fear, the intense heat, and the dread were still flowing painfully through his senses and he trembled violently. The dreams had been fading away lately and he had been sleeping peacefully for a while, but things could never be that easy. His subconscious apparently thought it was funny to twist the knife in just a tad bit deeper, showing his interpretations of what went on during the night of the fire through the eyes of his deceased family.  
The man rubbed a hand down his face and grunted, taking deep breaths as the dream faded away. An assigned therapist he had gone to, _once_ , had insisted that the dreams were his own way of piecing together the puzzle, showing that nothing could have been done. A way of easing the guilt, he had put it. John had never walked out of a room faster in his entire life. Something always could have been done. He could have stayed with Mary. Sam could have seen the flaming sections of wood crumbling above him. Dean could have–

Sighing heavily, he glanced around at the white walls, tiles, and bed sheets with barely contained disgust. He never understood the point of having such blandly colored walls but dismissed the question with a bitter scoff. _St. Adler’s Mental Hospital. Right; wouldn’t want the patients to start killing themselves over the color of the walls_ , he thought bitterly. Checking the clock on the nightstand beside the bed, he stretched and threw his legs over the side, wobbling unsteadily before moving towards the bathroom. Breakfast had started half an hour ago, but John wasn’t exactly known for his punctuality. Besides, if the amount of people he could hear outside the door currently heading towards the cafeteria was anything to go by, he wasn’t the only one.

John didn’t even bother looking in the mirror as he grabbed his toothbrush; the sight frequently made him dizzy. He supposed being in a mental hospital did that to you. Coating his toothbrush in a line of toothpaste the hospital supplied, he tucked it into his mouth as he went to relieve himself. The “mint” flavor was foul tasting in his mouth, leaving an almost acid like aftertaste, and the scent stung his nostrils. Toothpaste after toothpaste continued to taste like bile and he’d given up long ago that they would have one that didn’t make him nauseous. He grimaced and washed his hands before brushing his teeth in record time and rinsing out his mouth. And if he rinsed his mouth more times than was generally considered normal, well, it was the hospital’s fault for their freaking acidpaste.  
Deciding to skip his morning shower, he exited the bathroom and got a clean pair of clothes out of the nightstand. The outfit looked exactly the same as the one he was currently wearing, but it was clean. A plain white t-shirt and white pants. So, that made it different. A loud grumble interrupted the silence of the room and he moaned, rubbing his stomach, already feeling the beginnings of hunger pooling in his belly. He threw on a pair of socks, once again not bothering with shoes, before opening the door and peeking into the hallway. John Winchester wasn’t scared of anyone, but there were a few people he tried quite hard to avoid. Becky Rosen, in particular. John didn’t know exactly what was wrong with her, but her too-animated rants about famous “bromances” were enough to drive the man away at rocket speed. It was like she believed the characters were real people.

A quick scan in both directions deemed the hallways Becky-free and he yawned, closing the door behind him, trailing off after everyone else. White tile, white walls, whitewhitewhite. He scratched idly at his neck as he walked, studying the all-too-familiar halls of Ward A. Photos that gave off the impression of being in an elementary school were scattered along the walls, mocking him, each drawn by an inhabitant of the hospital. John had no artistic talent whatsoever, so it wasn’t even worth the attempt. He’d been here for nine long years, and it continued to amaze him that he was here at all. So what if he sometimes blacked out and couldn’t remember how he got from one room to the next? It wasn’t like he was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room crying about ghosts and demons. As long as he didn’t hurt anyone it was fine. Violence only took place when John _wasn’t_ blacking out. Which, he guessed, was the main reason he was still here. It wasn’t his fault that he got irritated by anything and everything. Right? Right. He supposed he should consider himself lucky that he wasn’t in one of those strict mental hospitals; the ones with straightjackets and cameras lining every corner. He shuddered. If he didn’t have the free-roaming abilities he had here; he _would_ end up going crazy. And then he would never be free.

He’d almost made it to the cafeteria before being approached but, luck was never on John Winchester’s side.

“Winchester!” He recognized the voice, and let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.  
He turned around and smiled, it wasn’t large, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Adam.”, he greeted, taking in the sight of the young boy jogging towards him. Adam Milligan was an eighteen-year-old patient with Autophagia, and his condition was the reason for his missing fingers; middle and ring from his left, index and pinky from his right. At first, his condition had freaked John out, but after he had gotten to know the boy more, he discovered that it frightened _Adam_ too, and he tried desperately, daily, to live with the emptiness where his fingers should be. He didn’t have too many friends, feeling self-conscious about his hands made him curl in on himself, avoiding the very topic of them.

From their past discussions, John had learned that Adam had long ago decided that he’d stick with anyone who spoke to him first. And long ago, John had given up arguing that introducing himself with “Hi, I’m Adam; I ate my fingers,” in a mental hospital wouldn’t be as weird as Adam might think. Getting past the familiar look of brown hair and green eyes, the kid was bright and a pleasure to be around. John would never admit it, but he had a soft spot for the kid. When he wasn’t being an annoying little shit, that is.

“Hey,” Adam said, voice a bit breathless. The boy gazed innocently up at John and the older man didn’t believe it for a second, eyes narrowed.

“You want something”

“It’s pancake day. With cherries.”

John nodded and scratched at his stubble. “If you want my cherries just go out and say it. Don’t beat around the bush.”

Adam chuckled and nodded, “Can I have your cherries, Winchester?”

“No.” And with that, John clapped the boy on the shoulder and sauntered off down to the cafeteria.

 

^

The pair entered the cafeteria and gathered up their trays to head over to the food station and pick out their meal. The cafeteria was worn down, numerous tables sitting in rows of five throughout the room, several of them littered with cracks and markings. Most of the tables were filled with people, but John could spot a few that were empty. A faint amount of sunlight filtered in from the windows, lighting the room gloomily. Although it wasn’t a complete loonies nest, it felt like one. Everyone just sat around at the tables all day or in the day room playing board games. John shook his head, walking faster towards the food line. The rumbling in his stomach was becoming a bit of a distraction.

Missouri was manning the station today and John smiled fondly at her. Her dark skin illuminated the silver cross hanging loosely on her neck, it was just a ruse though; she wasn’t even religious, but it had been a gift from her sister. Warm brown eyes gazed affectionately at him and she smiled. She truly was a beautiful woman. But when he said “manning” the station, he meant it literally. The woman didn’t take shit from anyone, especially John. If by some miracle he managed to get out of this place, he’d be sure to stay in contact with her. Maybe she could help him out if he ever got into a bad fight. Missouri seemed quite capable of knocking a couple teeth out. Or ten.

“Well good morning, sunshine.” he said, nodding his head in greeting.

“Don’t try to sugar me up. I know you use me for my food,” she deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Oh how you wound me,” he said, mock hurt coating his voice, laying a hand over his heart.

She chuckled, the sound warm, and after a few seconds John echoed the noise. “Alright, enough fun and games. Four pancakes as usual?”

“You bet. And give the cherries to the little squirt here,” he said, gesturing to a slightly offended Adam.

A genuine smile lit up John’s face as Adam protested while Missouri dropped a few extra cherries on his pancakes, claiming he was “too small to be considered an adult.” The banter went on for several minutes before it ended as abruptly as it began.

“Oh, come on, Missouri; don’t be such a bi-“

“Boy, if you finish that sentence I will hit you with a spoon.” Her gaze was unwavering, but not unkind.

John snorted, faking it off as a cough when Adam turned to glare at him. Raising his hands and eyebrows innocently, he flicked his eyes towards an empty table, and Adam sighed and nodded. The two set off for the table with their trays, promising to be back later for lunch. Upon setting down their trays and taking a seat, the younger of the two immediately dug into his pancakes, devouring them as if it were his last meal. A distant memory was prodding at John’s brain, but the more he prodded back, the weaker it became. Adam looked up with a mouthful of food, blushing slightly at the gaze the older man had trained on him.

“What?”

John let out a sigh and shook his head. The fire had melted away his memories of life with his family. And it seemed like the harder he tried, the bigger the headache.

“You sure?” At John’s nod, he continued. “Remember Andy Gallagher?” A blank look. “Right. Well he’s my roommate. Kinda crazy guy but he grows on you. He’s got extreme anxiety and has panic attacks a lot so I try not to set him off all the time. But it’s hard, it’s almost like anything’ll set him off.”

He proceeded to blabber on about how he and Andy had gotten in trouble for releasing a mouse they had caught into the employee lounge. They’d lost all their activity privileges for a week but it had made the two of them grow closer. All those hours spent in a room with nothing to do but talk or stare at the ceiling. John didn’t have that luxury. Plagued with a temper, John snapped at anyone who tested his patience. And it made it difficult to get along with people. Especially the nurses. _Mostly_ the nurses. They considered him too dangerous to pair him with a roommate. His personality just wasn’t compatible with others. Besides Adam, but he had a feeling it was his fatherly instincts that made the kid a friend.

He had had a roommate once, Gordon Walker, but due to a few _complications_ between John and the man, they had to be separated for their own safety. Shameful to say it was as much for John as it was for Gordon. He _might_ have initiated the fight, figuring Gordon’s unstable mental health was due to an abusive childhood. No. No, it was _not_. Gordon Walker was a retired army veteran, but he never quite came home from the warzone. Hundreds of murders taint his steps, but, unfortunately, a psychological test saved him from the fate of the chair. Gordon was diagnosed with Posttraumatic stress disorder, and admitted to St. Adler’s as a substitute for jail time. If they had asked John, he would’ve sent him straight to the chair anyway. Gordon seemed healthy enough. It wouldn’t be surprising if the only reason he signed up for the military was because he’d have a chance to kill something. But no one had asked, now had they? The look in his eyes as he watched people gave John the impression that the man was a hawk; waiting patiently for something to take off after.

John had picked a bad adversary to start a fight with. But, to be fair, he had gotten in a few good hits before security managed to rip them apart. The monster deserved worse. Gordon had let it slip that the last victim he killed he had burned alive, watching her skin melt away as her screams resonated throughout the house.

Everyone knew that arsonists didn’t sit right with John.

Well, _now_ everyone did.

And it only took two broken fingers, a split and bloody nose, a dislocated shoulder, and a few cracked ribs to make it known. But, hey, details, right?

 

^

After breakfast was the dreaded community group. John had personally lost his community group privileges a week ago after launching himself at Gordon. For the third time in one day. The two men walked on eggshells around each other, and it just so happened that they stepped a little too hard that day. When John arrived at the meeting, Adam ditched him at the doorway, murmuring something about finding Andy and seeing if he was skipping again.

It was his first time being back in over a week and security was far more efficient than it had been the last time he was here. He raised his eyebrows, impressed, when he noticed that Gordon had been moved to a different group room. The other patients regarded him warily, reading his expression for any chance of future misbehavior. John gave a small wave and sauntered to a seat in the back. Deeming him stable enough to relax around, the other patients trained their gazes back on the nurse sitting at the front of the room.

Unfortunately, the group was being led by Nurse Naomi for the day. Her cold and unsympathetic expression gave John the chills. He understood it was hard to control the group at times, but the woman didn’t seem to care about them in the slightest. What was the point in working at a hospital if you didn’t care about the patients? A nurse’s cap sat comfortably atop her head, hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her blue uniform was in perfect condition, almost too perfect, and she was wearing blue slippers. All of the nurses got slippers, and John envied her; he was stuck with white sneakers he never wore. After glancing around the room, calculating, she nodded and smoothed out the invisible creases in her shirt. As she opened her mouth to speak, Adam slipped into the room, dragging a horrified-looking kid by the wrist and took a seat next to John. The kid – Andy, John assumed – dropped reluctantly into the seat next to Adam. He kept looking around as if the entire world was coming to destroy him. John nodded, _definitely Andy_.

Adam smiled, smug, and gestured for Naomi to continue, keeping a twitchy Andy in place with a hand wrapped around his bicep. She scowled, but then a dark smile appeared on her face. “So Adam, why don’t you start; how’s your condition going?”

He tensed visibly, eyes widening, unconsciously moving his hands to rest under his legs. John narrowed his own eyes and glared at the woman. Even on the rare occasion Adam expressed his concerns, he had _volunteered_ , refusing to speak when singled out. It was no secret that Adam’s condition was a sensitive spot for the boy, and the way she had said it confirmed she knew and didn’t care.

“I hope everything is going well?” Her voice could freeze lava, dripping with mock concern.

The young boy was trembling subtly, eyes downcast. Andy placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to catch his attention, but Adam was curling in on himself.

“We wouldn’t want you to lose anymore fingers would we?”

Adam flinched, his expression growing pained as his eyes welled up with tears. John clenched his hands into fists, fingers digging painfully into his palm. He watched a few tears leak out of the young boy’s eyes, a deep ache in his chest, before turning back to Naomi and opening his mouth to unleash a few choice words. But a small voice beat him to it.

“H-h-he’s doing great and you know it.”

The room grew dead silent as all eyes turned on Andy. The twitchy boy fidgeted under all the attention, but pressed forward, voice still shaking.

“You’re j-just saying that b-because he walked in late. B-but he only did because he w-was coming to find me. I didn’t want t-to come because I know I’m n-not improving, and I don’t n-need you to tell me. But Adam is, and I w-wouldn’t be s-surprised if he was released soon.” A tinge of sadness colored his voice near the end and he looked down, wringing his hands.

John Winchester decided he rather liked this boy. And the look of surprised affection on Adam’s face made him like the twitchy kid even more.

Adam attempted to say something, but eventually settled on gathering the other boy into a hug, clutching desperately at his back. Andy hesitated for a few seconds before gripping the boy close to his chest. John nodded at him over Adam’s shoulder, a grateful smile on his face. Andy nodded back and tightened his hands around the brown haired boy.

Smirking, John turned back to Naomi. “Satisfied?” Naomi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Wonderful, let’s get this shit finished, shall we?”

 

^

Half an hour later and the trio were exiting the group room, emotionally exhausted. Adam left without a word and Andy, after giving John a hesitant smile, jogged after him. John definitely liked Andy then, he never was one for chick-flick moments. And Andy was currently walking right into one.

The group session went as eventful as it ever did. People cried, people laughed, people screamed. Same old, same old. But they always managed to get something off their chests, walking away feeling lighter than when they entered. Max Miller admitted that he hadn’t been taking his medication but felt fine, stable even, and Rose Holt, through tears, revealed she’d started cutting again after having nightmares about the fire that killed her parents. John tuned out then, not wanting to hear anything about _fires_ and _family_. Personally, he never said anything during the group sessions, there was nothing _to_ say.

But when Scott Carey had complained about the toothpaste tasting like bile, John was right there with him.

 

^

“Um…excuse me. Dean? Dean Winchester?”

John froze and heaved a deep sigh. His room was _right there. Seriously?_ Turning around, he fixed the nurse with a dangerous glare, daring her to call him that name again. She took a few steps back and opened her mouth but, aside from a slight nervous laugh, nothing came out and her hand moved to hover over her pager. John shook his head and waved a hand, softening his glare, but only slightly.

“I’ve never seen you around here so I’ll let you off with a warning. My name is _John_ Winchester. My son, this ‘Dean Winchester’ they used to call me when I first got here, is a pathetic and useless boy who set fire to our _home_ , killing my wife and youngest son. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t revive the trend of confusing me with that _murderer_.” The last word was bit out as if the term itself was bile. He turned away slightly and murmured, voice lower than before, “He never looked like me in the first place.”

Ending it with that, he turned away and trudged down the hallway, socks padding softly on the tile, to his room.

 

^

  
Nurse Ava stood, stunned, for a moment, staring after the patient named “John”, before Charlie, lead nurse of Ward A, came bouncing into her vision, a sympathetic smile planted on her face, bright red hair fanning around her like a crown. Her eyes held a twinge of sadness that Ava was sure mirrored her own. Despite being her superior, Charlie’s easygoing and goofy personality made it impossible to even think that way. She would probably be more intimidating if her eyes didn’t usually reveal constant mischief and the white lab coat she was currently sporting wasn’t littered in Harry Potter and comic book knick-knacks, the most noticeable being the “What would Hermione do?” pin placed right below her nametag. If Ava didn’t enjoy the woman’s company so much, she’d point out that Charlie didn’t exactly give off a “professional” aura. But it was _because_ of her childish antics that made most of the staff adore her.

“Don’t worry Ava, he just can’t tell the difference between reality and what goes on in that head of his,” she said softly, patting Ava’s arm reassuringly, “He never has.” She sighed, eyes locked on the door the man had entered.

Ava nodded, rubbing her forehead lightly. _First day in the new ward and you’ve already angered a patient_ , she thought tiredly. She lifted the clipboard in her hand and glanced toward the patient’s file, rereading it, scanning every detail in the slight chance that she misread the name. But, no; the file was exactly as she had read it originally:

_Dean Winchester. Ward A_   
_Age: 24_   
_Date of Birth: January 24, 1988_   
_Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder, DID (Multiple Personality Disorder, MPD)_

Ava smiled sadly and looked up at Charlie.  
“And he never will if he continues like this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel starts his new job.
> 
> Awkwardness ensues.

^

An annoying buzzing sound jerked Castiel awake and he groaned, rolling over to slam a hand on top of the stupid device. He rubbed a hand down his face and glared at the offending alarm clock, wishing he could set it ablaze with his eyes. No matter what time he went to sleep; it would never feel like enough. And now he actually had a _job_ to wake up to every _morning_.

He groaned again and flopped onto his back, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of his rapid heartbeat in his chest. It wasn’t exactly helping him relax so he sighed and sat up, reaching over his pillow to grab his glasses off the nightstand. The room came into focus and he yawned, crawling towards the edge of the bed and sliding off by his stomach. He lay there for a moment; face and stomach touching the carpet while his legs hung uncomfortably off the bed. The soft carpet below his cheek was soothing, and it could’ve lulled him back to sleep if the pain coming from his lower body didn’t exist. After several minutes, he pulled his legs off the bed and trudged towards the bathroom.

This time; on his hands and knees.

Making it to the bathroom in a record speed of five minutes, he flicked the light on and stood and stretched, releasing a cat-like purr as his joints awakened. He glanced toward the mirror above the sink and winced. A faint trail of drool ran from his mouth down to the edge of his chin. Adding it to the list of things that sucked about mornings, he turned on the faucet and wet his hands so he could scrub it away. He pulled the mirror open, exposing the cabinet behind it, and grabbed the bottle of pills from the second shelf. Popping open the bottle, he returned it to its original shelf before grabbing another and repeating the process; placing the pills in his mouth afterwards. The pills wobbled around in his mouth as he leaned down to take a drink of water from the faucet. Swallowing, he seized his over abused toothbrush and ran it under the water before squeezing a line of toothbrush onto it, running it under the water again. As he started to brush, his mind wandered back in time to when he was a teenager. Wetting the toothbrush before and after putting toothpaste on it was an old habit of his that he had picked up from Jimmy, his twin brother.

The two of them were inseparable even though Jimmy had schizophrenia. Castiel adored the boy with everything he had. Attached at the hip, his parents had called them. Despite being twins, Castiel did not develop schizophrenia and his mental health remained unscathed. Well, sort of; his parents favored Jimmy far more than him. And when Jimmy couldn’t handle the weight of everything anymore and hung himself; well, his parents didn’t favor him at all after that.

He spit in the sink and washed the remainder of toothpaste off his toothbrush, stripping down to jump in the shower. The handle that controlled the temperature of water in the shower was broken. Castiel didn’t know that. He let out a yelp as ice water spewed from the showerhead and he clung to the walls to escape the spray. Somehow he managed to balance the handle between “warm” and “scorch-my-balls-off hot.” The heat eased away the tension in his shoulders and he moaned, letting the water slide down his body.

One mind-boggling shower later, Castiel was clean, freshly shaved, and hungry. He padded to his closet and picked out a pair of black slacks and a white long-sleeved dress shirt. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and slid a gray sweater vest on top. He ran his hands through his black hair, erasing as much of his bedhead as he could. Deeming himself as the “First day at work” loser that he was, he stepped into his black loafers and headed to the kitchen.

His apartment was a two bedroom, one bath. The kitchen and living room were merged together in one room, divided by the countertops in the kitchen. A glass coffee table sat in the middle of the living room. He looked at it and shuddered, pressing a hand to his back. In front of the table was a simple flat screen TV that sat atop a two-story chocolate brown wood TV stand, three drawers lining the bottom; shelves overflowing with movies. A matching couch was placed behind the coffee table. It didn’t seem occupied, but it was home. He wasn’t exactly a professional designer, anyway.

But he was a _great_ cook. So breakfast was always delicious. On the menu for the day was a ham and cheese garlic omelet, red and green peppers covering the top. He placed a spoonful of sour cream onto his plate and cut into his omelet, after dipping the piece in the cream he shoved it in his mouth. Moaning, he closed his eyes and smiled. _Bliss._ Unfortunately, three minutes later the omelet was gone and Castiel frowned, savoring the last bit of flavor on his tongue. He stood up and placed his plate in the sink, taking out the ingredients for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

There was a special woman he had to make a sandwich for.

^

Hopping down his apartment steps two at a time, tan trenchcoat fluttering behind him, he burst through the front doors, immediately greeted with a gust of autumn air. He breathed it in and sighed; this weather was his favorite. The sun was shining high in the sky, but it wasn’t bearing down on the poor souls below it; the perfect temperature. He jogged toward the parking garage, taking a detour when a familiar alley opened up. Smiling, he made out the form of his target.

“Hello Olivia”

The old woman glanced up and smiled, nose crinkling. Olivia Fuhner was a homeless fifty-something Castiel had met during one of his morning jogs. Initially, he had tripped over her, not noticing the blankets on the floor, and the two of them spent the next five minutes apologizing to each other. It ended in a mutually agreed truce that Castiel should look where he’s going and Olivia should learn to stay out of the open. He had a fondness for the woman and made it a routine to make her breakfast every morning.

“Good morning, Castiel. What are you up to today?”

Her hazel eyes gazed fondly up at him. Long silver hair ran down her shoulders, merging with the rugged fabric of her shirt. Blankets lay scattered around her and cans and bottles were placed in a bucket beside her. She smelled musky and was missing a few teeth but Castiel still found her adorable.

“I got a job. So, unfortunately, I won’t be able to talk with you as much anymore.”

He frowned, the idea genuinely making him upset. Squatting down, he handed her the zip-lock bag with the sandwich in it, grinning when her face lit up. Her wise eyes regarded him sadly, but she smiled, waving him away.

“That’s alright, Castiel. Run along now. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Sighing, he nodded and stood up, waving and turning to leave.

“Don’t screw up at work today!” She called after him.

He rolled his eyes. “Gee _thanks.”_

Her responding laugh stayed with him the entire car ride.

^

The car ride was officially _over._

Castiel paced outside the door to St. Adler’s Mental Hospital for several minutes trying to calm his racing heart, rubbing his hands down the legs of his pants. If he didn’t go in soon someone would pass by and think _he_ needed to be admitted. It wouldn’t take much to have him admitted, either. A little trauma here and a little abuse there. Done. Wincing at the image, he swallowed and pushed open the door, glancing around, taking in the sight of his new job. The white walls would seem bland anywhere else, but he was in a _mental hospital_ , so they could go on without his criticism. A few chairs sat around a coffee table in the corner, magazines of varying styles placed delicately on a rack leaning against the wall. A vase of red roses was placed atop the coffee table, healthy, _must be new._

A closed door stared back at him menacingly and he averted his eyes, scanning the large set of double doors blocking any entry into the actual wards. He warily observed the numerous photos and college degrees lining the walls, feeling out of place. He had graduated with honors from Harvard; his master’s degree in psychology hanging proudly on his bedroom wall, but he was still fairly young, and skittish. The clerk sitting at the front desk noticed him hovering awkwardly and summoned him over. _Summoned_. _I’m in hell._  

The clerk locked eyes with him as he approached and he gulped; she was stunning, but had an aura around her that gave him the chills. Blonde hair fell down around a heart-shaped face, and her dark eyes twinkled with childish glee. However, it was nothing compared to the shark grin that was currently curling her lips.

“Well, hello there,” she murmured, voice smooth and slippery. It reminded him of an eel, and he wondered, briefly, if she would electrocute him if he touched her.

“Hello.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirk fading into something that might be classified as a smile. Castiel felt himself smiling in return, but snapped out of it when he realized he wasn’t here to make friends.

“Right,” he paused, clearing his throat before continuing, “I apologize. I have no idea where I’m supposed to go. I’m the new nurse assigned to Ward A. Under Nurse Charlie.”

He took his wallet out of his back pocket and slid his ID across the counter. She plucked it up and studied it before handing it back to him. As he tucked it back in, the picture of him and Jimmy on the front porch of their old house he kept in his wallet caught his eye and he frowned. It was the only picture he had left of his brother. Castiel was smiling widely while Jimmy stared at him intently, eyes soft. _Inseparable._  

The clerk typed something into her computer, fingers flying over the keys, and Castiel jumped at the sudden noise. She snorted, raising an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Castiel shifted awkwardly and put his wallet back in his pocket when she slid her chair across the room and stopped in front of a printer. A few button presses later she was sliding back to the front desk and passing him a laminated hospital ID. And it came with a lanyard. Wonderful. He picked it up by the strap and stared mournfully at it.

“Dude, I know. Lanyards suck. But only the lead nurses get nametags. ‘Cause apparently they’re awesome or some shit,” she rolled her eyes, “But don’t lose it, it’ll get you through the double doors over there without me having to buzz you in.” She typed something into her computer again, then furrowed her brows and looked at Castiel.

“Boss man wants to see you apparently. Lucky you!” Her voice was filled with mock enthusiasm.

Castiel raised his eyebrows, wondering what on Earth Zachariah Adler wanted with him now. The man had terrified Castiel during his interview, asking questions left and right, trying to dissect every molecule in his body. Castiel nailed the interview, nonetheless, but left the room with a consistent chill rolling down his spine. Zachariah Adler was a tall man, bald, and his dark blue eyes gazed calculatingly the entire hour. To say the man was intimidating was an understatement.

The clerk gave him a sympathetic look and studied his clothes, giggling. Castiel furrowed his brows and tilted his head. It was true that he was dressed formally, but it was normal on the first day. Right? He looked down, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone out of his way to be as fancy. He preferred jeans to slacks any day.

“Dude, you’re fine. We just gotta get you into uniform, Ca-Casteel…Cast- you know what? I’m just gonna call you Clarence.” She smirked before disappearing into the back room.

Castiel blinked at the nickname _._ Day one and he already had a nickname from someone he didn’t even know the name of _. I really am in hell._ The blonde woman came waltzing out a few moments later with a set of clothes that matched her own, shoes, and a lock. She placed them on the counter in front of Castiel and tapped them with her finger, mischievous smile back in place.

“Here you are. One set of blue pajamas to match those crystal blue eyes of yours.” Castiel frowned, tilting his head.

“Was that a flirtation?”

To his surprise, the woman snorted, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter before she broke and laughed outright. The sound was genuine, and Castiel felt the aura around the woman dissipate. Covering her mouth with a hand, the clerk tried to stifle her laughter. Castiel smiled brightly.

“No Blue-eyes, I was stating facts. I’m Meg, by the way,” she stuck out her hand, “I don’t know if we’ll be seeing each other much, but might as well get introductions over with so you don’t remember me as ‘that one blonde girl’.”        

The thought made him a little disappointed and he frowned as he shook her hand. “Castiel.”

“Clarence,” she said, nodding.

He scrunched up his nose and groaned. Meg laughed again and pointed towards the hallway. “Go down there, slide your ID through the scanner, and then take a right, third door on your left is the employee locker room. You can leave your clothes in one of the lockers,” she tapped the lock still sitting on the desk. “It’s better if you come dressed in your uniform so you don’t have to waste time doing the stupid code on this thing.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Castiel got the feeling the motion was something she did often.

“And then you’re gonna come back here and see what the boss man wants, capiche?”

“Yeah, I capiche,” he said, glancing down the hall. Another snort sounded from Meg and she waved him away quickly, gesturing vaguely to the clothes on the desk.

He picked up the pile and set off towards the door, fumbling with his ID when he went to scan it. _That’ll take some practice._ A green light flashed from the device on the wall and he pushed open the door, immediately hit by a cold breeze of air. He shivered, scowling at the sudden loss of heat in his body. Raising his eyebrows at the drawings on the walls he followed Meg’s directions and reached the employee locker room. There was another scanner. He frowned.

Luckily the locker room was empty when he unlocked the door. Like all locker rooms, there were benches lining the spaces between the sets of lockers, and a row of showers sat at the back of the room. The shower doors were pulled back and Castiel raised his eyebrows at the shine they emitted. The janitor must be a god if they managed to keep it looking in such pristine shape. Choosing a locker near the showers, he picked up the lock and took off the sticky note that was suddenly on the back of it. On the paper, written in surprisingly good handwriting, was the combination fourteen-thirty-five-twenty-six. He fumbled with the lock twice before managing to unlock it. Meg was right, next time he _definitely_ was arriving in his uniform. The tiny contraption was the devil.

Shrugging off his trenchcoat, he hung it in the locker before extracting his shirt from his back. He picked up the blue shirt Meg had given him and slid it on, slipping out of his slacks to put on the blue pants. It was surprisingly comfortable and he sighed contently. As he untied his shoes, he sat down on the bench and rolled his shoulders. The white hospital shoes were simple and plain and he slipped them on easily, fastening up the laces loosely, but firm enough to hold. He piled all of his clothes into the locker and locked it. _I hope I’ll be able to open it again_ , he thought with a frown.

When he arrived back at the front desk, Zachariah was chatting with a bored Meg, whose eyes lit up when she saw Castiel, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She waved him over with a finger and he rolled his eyes. _She’s using me_ _as a way to escape_. As if on cue, Zachariah turned and smiled widely.

“Hello Castiel.”

“Good morning, Mr. Adler.” _Reverting_ _back to polite nurse mode._

Zachariah nodded, and gestured to Castiel’s outfit. “I was in my office and just wanted to see how you were doing,” he jerked his head towards the now open door, “but I see you have your uniform already so I have no reason to worry.” He clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Which means you can just go on in. Unfortunately, Charlie is out sick today so she won’t be able to give you a tour,” he frowned thoughtfully, “but I’ll tell Bela to take you under her wing for the day. She’s a _joy_ to be around.”

^

Bela was _not_ a joy to be around.

Although the woman was drop-dead gorgeous with pale green eyes and long brown hair, she stood too close for Castiel’s liking, and throughout the tour she, in one way or another, managed to find some reason touch him. She was a few inches shorter than him but somehow succeeded in making him feel like a larva under her gaze. Possibly because she had been working here for the past three years and he was completely new. Yeah. That was definitely it.

The woman was intelligent, however, leading him around and showing him what he would need to know about the hospital. Castiel learned that there were three other sections of the hospital; B, C, and F. He gazed quizzically at Bela when the letter F followed, but she explained that it was where they sent the more ravenous and violent patients. Wards B and C were connected with A by the same type of double doors he entered by the front desk, but Ward F was in a completely different building located about 500 feet from the back of the hospital. They didn’t take a tour through there; Bela and Castiel were limited to the safe areas of Wards A-C. F was an eerie looking building, anyway; the windows were boarded, and cracks ran in zigzags throughout the entire building. A few large trees stood near the doors, but they were dead. It looked like a warzone. Which, he supposed, it kind of was.    

Along the way they passed a couple of patients who watched him closely, but looked away when they noticed the uniform, the pieces coming together in their heads. A few times they would come up and introduce themselves. Castiel’s favorite was a small red-head named Anna. He tilted his head at her when she stopped in front of them and Anna mirrored the pose, a small smile on her face. Bela snorted and called them birds. However, she furrowed her brows when the two of them spoke.

“Did you know that the demon Lilith is trying to break the 66 seals to free Lucifer from hell?”

“Then I suppose Michael will have to take his vessel and start the Apocalypse.”

Anna’s smile was blinding.

^

At the end of the tour, Bela took them back to the cafeteria to sit at the tables and talk. Well, she was flirting, but Castiel tried to consider it talking. While she was going on about some type of lucky rabbit’s foot that she owned, he did a scan of the room. A site caught his eye and he paused, eyeing the young man sitting a few tables away gazing helplessly out the window. He was silent, his hands clasped tightly together on the table, shoulders hunched. Short brown hair stuck up in different directions on his head, and a slight amount of stubble graced his cheeks. Castiel had either met or at least seen almost every patient in the cafeteria, but this one was new. Castiel was fairly sure he hadn’t been there during their first pass through. He’d remember this beautiful man if he had.

As if sensing the change in the atmosphere, the man turned slightly and met Castiel’s eye. The black haired man felt his breath hitch. Even from where he was sitting, the color of the man’s eyes were remarkable. _Green_. _Everywhere_. Castiel swallowed and raised a hand in greeting, but lowered it immediately, noticing the unfocused green-eyed gaze. _He’s not looking_ at _me, he’s looking_ through _me_ , he thought sadly. The twitch of the man’s hands was almost imperceptible as his eyes focused faintly before sliding back to the window.

Dumbfounded, Castiel turned back to a slightly irritated Bela before gesturing towards the man.

“And who is he? We did not encounter him during the tour.” He murmured, glancing back and forth between the man and Bela. Bela tugged a strand of hair behind her ear before sighing and smoothing out her uniform.

“Oh, him? That’s Dean, Sam, John, and Mary Winchester.” She announced flatly, punctuating each name by ticking off a manicured finger. She glanced towards the man with a look of disdain. “He’s been here for years, total nutjob that one. Can’t get _him_ to come back to us. Most of the nurses have already given up on him, ‘lost cause’ they say.” She huffed a laugh and shook her head, face morphing back into the flirtatious and playful smile Castiel was starting to think was permanently embedded on her face. She patted his arm, obviously wanting to engage in more “talking”.

Castiel was persistent, however, and cleared his throat. “What do you mean _he_ won’t come back? I assume by the amount of names you listed that he has multiple personalities?” he said, once again glancing back towards the green-eyed patient. The man had his head tilted towards Castiel and Bela, but his gaze was still unfocused and on the window. Bela let out a small frustrated sigh, wringing out her hands and gazing towards the man as if he personally offended her. She placed her hands carefully on her hips before turning back to Castiel and reciting a most likely rehearsed speech.

“Dean Winchester. Twenty-four years old. He’s been in here since he was fourteen. It’s actually ten years _today_. Diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID, after setting fire to his family’s home, ultimately killing all inside. He took on their personalities shortly after being admitted here. Sam Winchester: his younger brother, Mary Winchester: his mother, and John Winchester: his father. He’s one of the more severe cases we’ve had. You know how people with DID can hide it, and only use it as a form of self-protection in moments of intense circumstances?” she asked, but continued anyway, “Dean is nothing like that, he uses it 24/7. Default personality he chooses to represent himself as is John, an arrogant and violent man. We don’t see the others as much as we do him. Dean Winchester himself has not surfaced at all for years now. He’s quite hard to deal with when he’s in ‘Default Mode’ ”, she explained, using quotation marks for added affect, “but there’ll be moments like this: quiet and invisible.”

She gestured towards the table as if to prove a point and Castiel startled slightly at finding it empty.

He had never even noticed the man – Dean – had moved. _Quiet and invisible_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have up to Chapter 4 and then nothing, so yeah.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work. Nightmares. Awkwardness.
> 
> Yes.

^

The wall was tingling, and Dean prodded at it, confused. Normally the wall felt cold and stiff. Placing a hand on the wall, a sea of blue flooded Dean’s vision for a moment, cutting through the fog of his mind. It was a glistening blue, one of the purest he’d ever seen; to consider it blue almost seemed wrong. Painting it would probably be mesmerizing. He twitched, recognizing the sea as a pair of eyes. Attached to them was a set of black hair and a lean jaw, the disgusting blue uniform clinging snugly to his body, and a pair of glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. He was gorgeous. The man tried waving at him, but Dean stepped back from the wall and the fog flooded in again. If the fog was in place, he couldn’t grow close to the man, and if he couldn’t grow close, then he wouldn’t be hurt. Everyone hurt him, because everyone thought he was a monster.

The blue-eyed man would think he was a monster too.

He sat on the floor, pulling his legs to his chest, and turned his back on the wall.

^

The first day at work went as smoothly as Castiel had been hoping for, aside from Bela’s constant position at his side. The two of them patrolled around the halls of Ward A for the entire twelve hours, occasionally stopping to chat with some of the patients. Anna had come by again, and Castiel had a conversation about angels and demons with her; Bela trailing behind, irritated. Studying mythology when he was bored _did_ come in handy. _Suck on that._ After about half an hour Anna declared them friends. It made him prouder than it should have. Somehow during the conversation, Anna and Castiel arrived at the day room, and the next three hours were spent playing board games and duck –duck-goose. The patients warmed up to Castiel quickly, and let him into their group with open arms. Kate Wheeler, a girl with sever anxiety, made him a paper flower in crafting class and demanded he carry it with him always. It had the words “What’s the matter with you lately?” on it, and Kate explained that it was the song that was playing when she met her boyfriend Michael, who died in her arms from a stab wound. Castiel would never admit that it nearly made him cry.

Ronald Resnick went on to explain his legendary “laser-eyes” theory to Castiel, who nodded and hummed when it seemed appropriate. Even if he didn’t believe it, he had to give the guy props for his research; it made sense. Ronald practically bloomed with pride as he went on about the photographs and shiny eyes, long curly brown hair waving around as he gestured wildly with his hands. Castiel felt more at home with the patients than he did at his apartment. When he asked about Dean everyone grew quiet and an awkward silence followed. It was broken when Daphne Allen rolled doubles in her game of Monopoly with Kate and let out a loud squeal. The room shifted their attention to the game, but the mood was slightly dimmed.

It was a relaxing setting, nonetheless, and he thanked the heavens he managed to find a mental hospital that didn’t have complete _psychos_. The patients were skittish and unstable, but most suffered from anxiety disorders and depression. The only reason they were admitted in the mental hospital was because they couldn’t handle the outside world. Either way, they were _there._ Castiel frowned, thinking about the green-eyed man in the cafeteria. He had tried to find him, subtly glancing around rooms as Bela stopped him to talk about something. It was like he had disappeared, though Castiel suspected he was in his room. A case as severe as Dean’s intrigued Castiel; it wasn’t every day that you found someone that was so far gone that the nurses had just given up. Ward F popped into his head and he shuddered, hoping he never had to venture there.

Castiel couldn’t imagine the trauma that must have ensued to drive the man so deep inside himself. A house fire left you broken, but it didn’t leave you _shattered._ To not surface for several _years?_ That didn’t happen from some fire, and Castiel wanted to figure it out so he could be friends with the man. He frowned. The man had been in the room for all of two minutes and Castiel was already forming an attachment. As always, he was quick. It was either Castiel liked you or he didn’t; there was no Purgatory. In his world, you went to Hell or Heaven. Bela was currently being burned alive, she didn’t know it though. At one point, he noticed she had a British accent. How on Earth he managed to tune her out enough that it never registered in his brain; he’ll never understand. It reminded him of Balthazar, and his bright mood dissolved. Luckily, his shift had ended and he was free to go home and mope about past friendships. 

He unlocked the door to the locker room, proceeding to spend the next two minutes fumbling with the _goddamn lock_. When he got it open he slid on his trenchcoat and folded his clothes over his arm; not in the mood to bother changing. Glaring openly at the lock, he snapped it back onto his locker and left the room. When he scanned his ID and pushed through the double doors, he startled slightly at finding Meg still sitting at the front desk.

She yawned and glanced at him. “How was your first day, Clarence?” Her eyelids were drooping and she was leaning her head on desk.

“It was wonderful, thank you. Are you alright?” Castiel tilted his head, eyes concerned. It was only 8pm and she looked exhausted. He was exhausted too, but he had been playing with the patients all day. _Playing with the patients?_ Shaking his head inwardly, he realized that that was exactly what he had been doing. Meg waved a hand, nonchalant. Her curly blonde hair was tied into a ponytail, but a few strands fell in front of her eyes. She didn’t even bother to move them away. Castiel frowned.

“I was playing duck-duck-goose with the patients for about two hours. I have an excuse for being tired. What’s yours?”

To his surprise, Meg’s head snapped up and she let out a laugh. The eyes that were just moments ago filled with complete exhaustion transformed. It was odd; even when Castiel laughed the change in his mood wasn’t so drastic. If he was tired then he was still tired.

Meg waved a hand, still chuckling. “I’m fine. Just lots of paperwork today. My fault for choosing to run the desk instead of roaming the halls today, huh? Now get out and go home.”

Instead, Castiel sauntered up to the front desk and tilted his head. “You work in the wards?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, you thought I was just some blonde bimbo sitting at the front desk?” Her eyes widened and she was opening her mouth to take it back, but Castiel was faster.

“I wouldn’t say _bimbo._ But yes, that was basically my interpretation,” he said, impish grin curling his lips.

A few seconds of silence followed and Castiel began to grow nervous he’d overstepped his boundaries. The aura around Meg was gone but he felt like it would snap back if he made the wrong move. _Eel._ Meg was staring at him, eyes calculating, and he gulped. Apologies were filing through his head and he tried desperately to grasp one to throw at her. But then she smiled wide and slapped a hand over her eyes, warm laughter escaping her lips. Castiel blew out a breath of relief and smiled, counting it as a win. After a few more seconds of laughter, she wiped her eyes and looked at him, grinning mysteriously.

“You win this round, Clarence.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if he was scared or delighted by that fact.

^

Exiting the hospital, Castiel jogged towards his car, practically throwing himself inside when he unlocked it. He didn’t know what it was about the dark that creeped him out, but if he was within running distance of his target; he wasn’t afraid to go for it. Sighing, he put the key in the ignition and started the car. It was originally going to be Jimmy’s, but that ship had sailed long ago. Being the only son left, his parents had reluctantly released the 1999 Nissan Altima to a 16-year-old heartbroken Castiel. That was ten years ago, and the car still ran fine. Even if it didn’t; it was another sentimental piece of his childhood, and those stayed with him forever. He would drive the car until it spontaneously combusted. Hopefully while he wasn’t inside.

He adjusted his rearview mirror and sucked in a breath when he saw a dark form lingering by the front door of the hospital. He snapped around in his seat and relaxed slightly at the empty space where the form had just been standing. Deeming it as exhaustion, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

^

“It should have been _you_.”

A punch to the gut knocked the wind out of Castiel and he bent forward, face contorted in pain. He whimpered, fingers reaching up to protect his face, but a hand caught both of his wrists and a fist collided with his cheek. White searing pain spread throughout his body and he slumped down the wall, nose bloody and vision cloudy. The beating didn’t stop, however, as a foot glided through the air and hit him in the temple. He yelped when a round of kicks, one after the other, targeted his stomach. The sound of a vicious crack came from Castiel’s chest and he gasped, retching painfully onto the floor. A hiss escaped his lips as he struggled to breathe, pressing a hand to his chest.

He looked up into the face of his attacker, tears streaming rapidly down his cheeks.

“Michael, _please stop_.”

^

Castiel awakened with a sob, hands moving to hover over his chest. He could still feel the broken ribs digging into his lungs as he breathed, and his heart was thundering in his chest. The pain was excruciating and he rolled out of bed, landing awkwardly on the floor. He stumbled towards the bathroom in a daze, slamming a hand against the light switch, and forced open the cabinet behind the mirror to claw at the bottles of pills. His hands were shaking violently and he thrust the pills into his mouth and bent quickly to take a drink of water. Panting raggedly, he looked up and studied the tear stains on his face. A flash of blood leaking from his mouth entered his mind and careened sideways, dropping to his knees to vomit into the toilet. The release left a stinging in his mouth; there wasn’t anything in his stomach. It had been months since he’d dreamt of Michael. Months since the Shurley family had even crossed his mind. He’d severed the ties between them; for good.

Castiel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. The steady thrum of his heart in his chest calmed him faintly, but he didn’t want to go back to sleep. One dream for the night was good enough for him. He stood up and hovered in the doorway of the bathroom, watching the darkness around his bed. His vision was fuzzy and he realized he’d forgotten his glasses on the nightstand. When he was a teenager, his parents had insisted he got contacts, but Castiel, being the least favorite son that he was, didn’t want them. It was one of the only things that separated him from Jimmy; made him his own person. Fortunately his parents had gotten them every time he got new glasses; which Castiel now had to pay for. He opened the cabinet below the sink and shuffled through bottles of lotion and shampoo to find the contact bag. Putting contacts in had never been his specialty and he scowled when he poked himself in the eye.

Five frustrating minutes later he had both contacts in and fresh tears running down his cheeks from the numerous failed attempts. He scrubbed at the tears and turned back to his bedroom, squinting slightly to view the numbers on his alarm clock. It was a full hour earlier than he needed to be at work and he sighed. Getting back to sleep would be impossible after the nightmare, and the hospital _was_ open before his shift anyway. Better to go to work and find something to do than to stay trapped in his house with nothing but adrenaline coursing through his veins. The shower handle was still broken, but Castiel didn’t care; he stepped under the spray of cold water, shivering at the initial contact, before relaxing and scrubbing the tension from his body.  A dull throb in his shoulder made itself known and he let out a small laugh at the image of him falling out of bed only a few minutes earlier.

Nightmares had always cursed Castiel. Ever since Jimmy died his subconscious released a varying range of scenarios every few weeks. It had been months since his last nightmare and he was beginning to feel that they had left completely, but no such luck. Luckily the nightmares never reached the point of needing therapeutic help. He winced at the idea; a shrink telling him all the things that were wrong with him never sounded fun.

Hopping out of the shower, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He took a deep breath and walked into his bedroom and flicked on the lamp, lighting the room with a faint glow. He moved to his alarm clock and shut it off so it didn’t come on when he wasn’t there. The room was eerie, but he rolled out his shoulders and went to the closet, turning on the light in there as well. He picked out his uniform and walked to his dresser to pull out a pair of boxers and socks. A chill ran through his body as he dropped the towel to put on his clothes. The fabric hung loosely on his body and he took a moment to appreciate the soft cotton texture. A uniform being _comfortable_ felt like a joke, but here he was fondling the material as if it was an intimate action between two people.

Not bothering to fix a big breakfast, he made a bowl of cereal and scarfed it down, the flavor sour on his tongue. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich was next; just in case Olivia happened to be up early. He grabbed his keys and trenchcoat from beside the front door. Checking to make sure his hospital ID was still in his pocket, he unlocked the door and left.

Olivia was not awake and Castiel smiled softly at the image in front of him. The old woman was covered in blankets, head resting on a small bundle of clothes, snoring. Slowly, he stepped forward and set the sandwich bag down next to her. She shifted, but didn’t wake. He raised his eyebrows and grinned.

_Adorable._

^

When Castiel opened the door to the hospital, he tilted his head and frowned. In return, the clerk sighed.

“I apologize, but if I’m remembering correctly, you were sitting there looking just as exhausted about,” he paused and checked the clock on the wall, “eleven hours ago.”

Meg rubbed her eyes and waved him forward, grogginess visible in all of her movements. Castiel stepped up to the counter hesitantly and leaned down to study her face. It concerned him slightly how tired she looked. A nurse’s shift didn’t last more than about twelve to fourteen hours, and Meg apparently didn’t even run the front desk normally. Why did she look so tired?

“What are you doing here, Clarence? And where are your glasses?” she murmured quietly, eyes rolling up to gaze quizzically at him. It felt like an accusation and he crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly.

“I couldn’t sleep and I forgot I was wearing contacts. I figured I’d come in early and waste time before my shift started, “ he pointed a finger at her and scowled, “however, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

She grinned and shrugged, a strand of hair falling in front of her face. Castiel studied her for a few seconds before deeming her sane and healthy. When she finally spoke, her voice was back to her regular mischievous purr. _I’ve known her for a day and I already know it’s regular_ , he thought, puzzled.

“Well, Ruby bailed on her shift so I had to take over. Don’t worry, I left around ten last night and I just opened up about thirty minutes ago.”

Castiel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He supposed he was lucky that his shift ended before his body grew absolutely exhausted. A shift like Meg’s would kill him. As often as he found himself hating mornings; he’d be fired for never showing up. Meg pointed to the double doors and made a shooing motion with her hands, signaling his dismissal. He glared at her and moved towards the door before Meg’s voice called out to him.

“Maybe I’ll see you when you finish your shift.”

Castiel stopped his advance towards the door and turned to look at her. Meg was beautiful and he felt himself frown when the barely hidden exhaustion and disheveled hair took away from the face he remembered yesterday morning. She needed sleep.

“Hopefully you won’t.”

Meg furrowed her brows and opened her mouth, but he hurried to the door and unlocked it, slipping through before it had even opened properly.

On the other side of the doors, he shivered and scanned the halls, moving forward slowly. He should have asked if anyone was even working this early. The place looked deserted and he continued his advance down the halls, eyes darting around for the faintest movement. It was 7am for Christ’s sake; was no one an early riser?

“You’re here early.”

Castiel’s blew a long breath out of his nose and turned towards the voice, forcing a faint smile onto his face.

“Hello Bela. I couldn’t sleep.”

Bela raised her eyebrows at the lack of glasses and sudden appearance of a trenchcoat, playing with the lanyard around her neck. Castiel was fairly sure if he was interested in women that he would be all over her. She had the mischievous model look about her and the British accent was to die for. But, luckily, he was as straight as a rainbow.

“Ah, well no one else should be here for another twenty minutes or so, so-“

She stopped suddenly and glared at something beyond his shoulder. Confused, Castiel turned around and came face to face with Anna. The red-head’s eye widened with recognition and Castiel sent a silent thank you to the lord of perfect timings. He raised a hand in greeting and startled when she gripped it and dragged him in the direction of the day room.

He glanced over his shoulder at Bela and gave her a half-hearted shrug, biting his lip to keep from laughing at the look on the woman’s face.

^

Once again, Castiel was pulled into the dayroom for most of his shift, the crowd around him growing as the patients got more into the games. Daphne won another game of Monopoly with Kate and he smiled fondly at the look of disdain on Kate’s face. Someone had the terrible idea of getting a game of Twister going, and Castiel snorted when Ronald fell on his face after the first four moves. He was growing to love this group around him. They made him feel like a kid again.

A head of brown hair flashed in his peripheral vision and his head snapped in the direction immediately, eyes darting around the room for the familiar set of hair. It couldn’t be. The man hadn’t shown himself in all of the eight hours he’d been there, but sure enough, Dean was hovering in the doorway of the day room before he rolled his eyes and turned away.

Castiel definitely did not scramble to his feet and jog after the man. And he definitely did not feel his heart stop when he managed to get the other man to turn around. An ungodly amount of stubble lined the man’s cheeks and his green eyes gazed suspiciously into blue ones. Broad shoulders and bowlegs defined the man’s body and Castiel shivered. While his own body was lean and boney, Dean was muscled and toned.

“Hello,” he said slowly, waving a hand awkwardly.

The other man raised his eyebrows and studied Castiel’s face. His eyes were focused and it was then that Castiel understood what was happening; this wasn’t Dean, this was John. He sighed inwardly, remembering that Dean was locked inside himself.

“You must be new here. John Winchester.”

That _voice._ His knees felt weak and he stared at the man in front of him in disbelief. His voice was deep and gruff, but Castiel wondered if it was John’s voice or Dean’s. John was watching him expectantly and he cleared his throat.

“Yes. Castiel Milton, my first day was yesterday. You don’t want to come in and play?”  Castiel groaned when he realized he sounded like a perverted old person. He might as well admit that he had candy in his basement.

John raised an eyebrow. He crossed his hands over his chest and smirked, watching the other man squirm under his gaze. Castiel rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Communicating with people had never been his thing, but he thought he’d at least gotten a little better at it. _Wishful thinking_ , he thought, frustrated. Judging by the amused curl of John’s lips; he knew it too.

“I thought maybe we could be friends,” he murmured lamely.

The other man snorted and rubbed his stubble with a hand, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. It almost felt creepy to call the man attractive considering the “age difference” between the two of them. If John was Dean’s “father” then he had to be at least forty. But _Dean_ was technically only two years younger than him. Ending the train of thought there, he watched the other man. John was still looking at the ceiling as he spoke.

“Why?”

It was an easy question, but Castiel felt like a fish out of water. Why did he want to be friends with the man in front of him? What did he have to gain out of this?

“I have no idea.”

John barked out a laugh and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He looked back at Castiel and grinned, amusement written plainly on his face.

“Okay, kid. See you tomorrow,” he said, turning away and heading to his room

Castiel barely managed to hold back the urge to jump and fist pump.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel sucks at board games.
> 
> I like.

^

The annoying ringing sound was back and Castiel groaned as he reached out a hand blindly for the alarm clock. His hand collided with his glasses and he moaned when they slid off the nightstand and onto the floor. The beeping was still going and he sat up when his blind search came up with nothing. Slamming his hand onto the off button, he yawned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, bending down to retrieve his glasses. A beating in his chest led him to the bathroom and he opened the cabinet to grab his pills. He bent down to get a drink of water and sighed, ruffling his hair with his hand. After brushing his teeth he undressed and showered, scowling at the broken handle he kept forgetting to report. However, it did wake him up when he scrambled around in the shower to avoid the cold water. He got dressed and headed into the kitchen, fingers moving idly across the soft fabric. 

A plate of blueberry pancakes sat in front of him a few minutes later and he grinned, pouring a decent amount of syrup on top. One bite and his eyes were rolling up to the ceiling. He didn’t want to brag, but _wow._

As always, three minutes later the plate was empty and in the sink as he made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, slipping it into the plastic bag and heading to the door. He shrugged on his trenchcoat and grabbed his keys, opening the door and locking it. He waved to his neighbor Tessa, who blushed and waved back. It might not have been a good idea, seeing how it was obvious she had a massive crush on him. If he told her he batted for the other team, he could only imagine the disbelief and sadness that the news would bring her. Or disgust. Hopefully not disgust.

He jogged down the stairs and headed to Olivia’s alley where the woman was sitting up and watching the sky. She turned and smiled softly at him as he approached.

“Good morning, Castiel. I didn’t see you yesterday, but a sandwich was staring at me when I woke up,” she said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. Castiel laughed and crouched when he reached her, handing the sandwich over.

“Hello. I couldn’t sleep and decided to go to work an hour early. You were still sleeping so I left it there for you when you woke up. It was probably a bad idea, I hope it wasn’t soggy.”

He winced and watched as Olivia bit into the sandwich. In his hurry to leave he didn’t even think about how a sandwich would survive out in the open. It was protected by the zip-lock bag but that was like using a glass shield against a gladiator. She waved a hand and swallowed.

“It was fine Castiel. Did something happen?”

“No, just restless energy,” he lied, fumbling with the ID in his pocket. There he went again; the lies.

Olivia regarded him curiously before nodding and shifting her gaze to the sky. Both of them knew he was lying, but they didn’t speak of it.

“Did you screw up at work yesterday?”

He snorted and shook his head. “Luckily no, but now I remember that I unfortunately have a job so thanks a lot.”

She laughed and shooed him away with her boney hands, a fond look warming her eyes. Sighing, Castiel stood and waved as he headed to the parking garage.

“Have a good day, Castiel,” she called out. He gave a thumbs-up and turned the corner.

 _Mornings still suck_ , he thought faintly.

^

Pushing open the door to the hospital, he froze briefly at the unfamiliar blonde at the front desk. In return, the blonde furrowed her brows and let her eyes travel along his uniform. She locked eyes with him and smiled.

“You must be Castiel. I’m Jo.”

Were all the women who worked here absolutely gorgeous? He walked up to the counter and shook her outstretched hand, wincing faintly at the tight grip. Jo was small but she was _strong_. The friendly smile on her face made him believe she was innocent, but he realized she could probably rip him apart if needed. Castiel nodded and retracted his hand, clenching and unclenching it where she couldn’t see. A thought prodded at his brain and he frowned.

“Where is Meg?”

She was gone from the front desk when he left the night before and Castiel had felt a wave of relief wash over him. It was weird that he felt oddly protective of the woman. Jo shrugged and went to type something on the computer.

“Not sure. She looked exhausted last night so Zachariah sent her home to rest. Probably gave her a few days off since he called me and told me to run the desk today.” She rolled her eyes and he smiled at the familiarity of the gesture. Even if she was forced to go home, at least Meg didn’t have to work.

“Charlie is back today so you can finally meet her. She’s usually goofing off in the day room. It’s hard to miss her; bright red hair,” Jo said, standing up to put a pile of papers in one of the file cabinets. Castiel smiled, remembering another red-head he knew.

“Like Anna?”

Jo paused and turned to him with raised eyebrows. She smiled. “So you’ve met Anna. She’s a sweetheart isn’t she?” She brought a new pile of papers to the front desk and set them down, grabbing a pen and pulling the cap off with her teeth.

“She is. She declared us friends on my first day. I was quite proud,” he said, digging in his pocket and pulling out his ID. As much fun as it was to waste time; he _did_ have a job to attend to. Jo snorted and looked up, pen held loosely in her hand. She nodded and motioned to the door, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Yes; I know,” Castiel deadpanned, moving to the door and scanning his ID. The cold air hit him and he shivered. It continued to amaze him that he forgot how cold it was. He pulled his trenchcoat tighter around him and frowned when he realized he was still wearing it. He frowned deeper when he remembered he had worn it all day yesterday. Concluding that if he had gotten away with it yesterday then today would be no different, he relaxed. The hallways were quiet but the faint sound of laughing could be heard from the day room and he smiled, walking faster to reach the door. A red-head – Charlie, he assumed - was sitting at one of the tables across from another nurse with long dark brown hair, engaged in a very animated chat. Castiel raised his eyebrows and walked closer, picking up on the conversation.

“Dude, seriously? You’re going to sit there with a straight-face and tell me Superman is better than Batman?” Charlie said, incredulously, mouth gaping as she looked at the other woman.

“Come on, Charlie. Superman is a man in tights who actually has _super-powers_! What the hell does Batman even do!?” The other nurse exclaimed, throwing up her hands in disbelief. Castiel snorted; he’d been thinking the same thing.

Charlie huffed and crossed her arms. “He doesn’t need super-powers to be badass; he uses his fists for that. And he has that _voice_.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel sat down next to Charlie, uninvited. “Personally, I find the Batman voice obnoxious and irritating,” he said, grinning at their shocked expressions.        The other nurse recovered fast and smiled smugly, raising a hand in Castiel’s direction. He gazed curiously at her before she waved her hand insistently and he caught on. Making full eye-contact with Charlie, they high-fived. The red-head glared openly at them both before sighing and resting her head on her fist. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and turned to Castiel, sticking out her free hand.

“You must be Castiel,” he nodded and shook her hand, “       I’m Charlie, though you probably already know that. Totally bummed out I couldn’t be here on your first day. I got infected with some god awful disease and was banished to my bedroom for three days,” she sighed dramatically and smiled, “I only threw up five times; I don’t see what the big deal was.”

The other nurse punched Charlie in the shoulder and glared at her. “You had a fever of one hundred degrees for seventy-percent of the three days. Shut up.” She smiled suddenly and turned to Castiel, extending a hand, “Madison. I was stuck taking care of her.”

Castiel shook her hand and glanced at Charlie, eyes calculating. He remembered Jo saying she goofed off, so he took a chance.

“That must have been terrible.”

Madison laughed, turning to Charlie and pointing at Castiel. “I like him. Why can’t he be in my ward?” She pouted and ran a hand along the table. She looked absolutely adorable and Castiel furrowed his brows, looking between the two women. Why on Earth was everyone here so attractive? Charlie had a bright smile and beautiful green eyes, red hair tumbling down her shoulders. Her white lab coat was covered in knick-knacks and he smiled softly at the pure unashamed childish affect it had. The “What Would Hermione Do?” pin stuck out like a sore thumb. While Charlie had a childish aura, Madison had a tough and sneaky feel about her. Her sharp eyebrows punctuated her dark eyes and charming smile. 

“I have a question,” he said, regarding the two of them seriously.

Charlie frowned and gestured for him to continue, looking slightly concerned at the change in his voice. Madison folded her arms on the table and furrowed her brows.

“Is every person that works here physically attractive?”

Madison snorted and covered her face with her hands, shaking her head with a smile. Charlie raised her eyebrows and bit her lip to keep the grin that was trying to spread across her lips at bay. She cleared her throat and patted Castiel’s arm.

“Yes. This isn’t a hospital, Castiel; it’s a strip club. How did you not realize this?”

He nodded in understanding, looking around the room with fake amazement. He imagined poles on the tables and the patients sliding dollar pills into the nurses’ pockets. As awkward as it sounded; he could see it. The laughter that was bubbling up in his chest broke through finally and he grinned, shaking with the force of his laughter. The two women joined in after a few moments and they all wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Seriously, though; _everyone_ here is attractive. I feel like an outcast,” Castiel said, resting his head in his palm.   

Charlie’s eyes widened and she looked at Madison, who was shaking her head. She reached across the table to lift Castiel’s chin with her fingers.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re fucking _hot,_ ” she said, smiling smugly.

Castiel blushed and pulled his face away, scratching at his stubble. His glasses were sliding down his nose and he pushed them up with a finger causing Charlie to snort. The perfect representation of a nerd was sitting right next to her. She grinned, leaning forward to fold her arms and rest her head on them. The day room was still fairly empty; most patients were in the cafeteria eating breakfast. It was quiet, but the silence was comfortable, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Madison sighed and stood up, stretching her arms above her head and rolling out her shoulders.

“As entertaining as it is to talk about strip clubs and superheroes, Sarah will be pissed if I hide in here for the whole day,” she said, yawning and smoothing out her uniform.

Castiel tilted his head and frowned. “Sarah?”

“She’s basically the Charlie of Ward C. Just without the red hair and childish knick-knacks” Charlie squinted at her. ”Don’t give me that look you know I love them.”

With a wave, she turned and left the room, whistling the theme to “Golden Girls” as she did. Castiel liked her; she was spunky.

“And then there were two,” Charlie said, trailing off and giggling. The sound was full of pure bliss and Castiel felt the air shift around them. She yawned and leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. When she turned to Castiel, her eyes took on a look of childish glee. He wasn’t surprised by her next words.

“Wanna play checkers?”

“You don’t even need to ask.” Castiel raised his eyebrows and stood, moving to the board game chest.

He pushed open the chest and dropped to his knees, shifting through the numerous amounts of games. The boxes were beaten and tattered; an obvious sign of use and he smiled softly. It reminded him of the years with Jimmy when they would spend hours sitting around playing every board game possible. Jimmy always won; his strategies were planned out the second the game started. It made no sense, considering that the games were based on pure luck, but somehow Jimmy always managed to succeed in driving Castiel into bankruptcy. He supposed it was just because of Jimmy’s ability to think through every scenario. At least, that’s what his self-esteem told him.

His fingers brushed against the checkers box and he grinned, pushing aside the other boxes and pulling it out. It was a small red box with the words “Checkers” written in plain white font. The box was slightly tattered and he carried it gently back to the table, sliding in across from Charlie instead of next to her. Charlie opened the box and Castiel huffed a laugh when he realized that the checkerboard was made out of puzzle pieces. In order to play you had to put the board together. He picked up a puzzle piece and raised his eyebrows at Charlie, gesturing for her to take one as well. She snorted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before dumping all of the puzzle pieces onto the table. Two bags of checkers sat at the top of the pile; one black and one red. Castiel’s hand shot out and he gripped the bag of black checkers, surprising Charlie with the sudden movement. She slowly reached out and took the red checkers, watching Castiel with a raised eyebrow.

“I like the black ones,” he said lamely, rubbing the back of his neck.

Charlie smiled smugly and nodded, murmuring, “I can see that.”

She smoothed out the pile of puzzle pieces and bit her lip, worrying it around before pursing her lips. There was a moment of silence before she tapped her fingers on the desk and glanced up at Castiel. Her eyes were thoughtful and Castiel tilted his head as they locked eyes. She seemed to be calculating something, and then she smiled.

“Every time one of us gets a king, we have to tell one fact about ourselves. And, technically, I am your boss, so you can’t refuse.”

Charlie shrugged and smiled wider. All of the blood drained from Castiel’s face and he sighed. There wasn’t much _to_ tell. He was twenty-six and he lived alone. He worked at a mental hospital and didn’t have a single friend. _Besides Olivia_. Unfortunately, Charlie had him cornered and there was no way out. If needed, he could just make something up. He nodded and started gathering the puzzle pieces into piles. When he was a kid, he used to start puzzles by randomly finding pieces that went together and putting them aside for later. But Jimmy had taught him how to start from the outer edges and work from there. Figuring out the shape of the puzzle somehow made it easier for Jimmy to finish it. Castiel didn’t see a difference, but he wanted to be just like his older brother.

After a few minutes of silence, Castiel had the border of the checkerboard completed and Charlie was working on the middle. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but they were both trying to come up with something to fill the void. When the checkerboard was finished, they set up their checker pieces and locked eyes.

“Remember the deal,” Charlie said, watching him intensely.

Castiel sighed and nodded, moving his first checker piece forward.

^

Apparently, Charlie had forgotten that checker games don’t last very long, so she insisted they play more than just one game. Castiel, unfortunately, had to agree, but by the end of it he was genuinely enjoying the game. Throughout the numerous games they played, Castiel learned that Charlie was a wiz with computers, an only child, and crushing on the security guard named Garth. Castiel had raised an eyebrow at that; he had never seen any of the security guards, and he was eager to find out who this “Garth” was. She was also best friends with Jo, the two of them being inseparable after bonding over comicon. Though Jo would never admit that she had gone. Charlie used to have crush on Jo, but when they tried dating it didn’t work out. She attended LARP conventions and convinced Castiel to try it at least once. Her mother was left brain-dead in a hospital for sixteen years, and during those years Charlie read “The Hobbit” to her, until she finally pulled the plug. Castiel squeezed her hand from across the table and nodded, attempting to comfort her the best he could. It worked.

In return, Castiel told her that he was now an only child; Jimmy had died when he was 16. He used to play the violin and was in an orchestra for four years after he graduated. When she asked why he left he simply shrugged. She nodded, curious, when he told her that Jimmy and him actually had separate birthdays. Jimmy was born on October thirtieth at 11:50pm while Castiel was born on October thirty-first at 12:02am. It wasn’t that rare for twins to have separate birthdays considering the amount of time women were in labor, but Charlie was still interested, digesting the information as if storing it for later. He told her that he liked to draw; in fact it was the only thing he did better than Jimmy.

The atmosphere was comforting to Castiel and he smiled easily when Charlie talked. He could see a real friend in her. That is, until he got too comfortable.

“I’m gay.”

He froze and Charlie looked up, her mouth forming an “O”, hand frozen over one of her checker pieces. Castiel fidgeted and bowed his head. He hadn’t meant to say that. But things had gotten so comfortable between the two of them that he let his guard down. _Stupid._ He could see the scenarios flying through his head of being fired for being gay or mocked. While he was having a mental breakdown, Charlie simply nodded and tilted her head.

“Then that makes you special.”

Castiel’s head jerked up as Charlie leaned over the table and gave him a kiss on the cheek, smiling as she leaned back. Castiel’s eyes widened and he placed a hand over the spot she had kissed. It tingled slightly and he felt warm. She hadn’t rejected him; quite the opposite, actually. A sense of calm settled in him and he smiled shakily and nodded, letting his eyes focus on the checkerboard. The game picked up again and the tension eroded away. The two fell back into their childish and competitive banter. Of course, in the end Castiel lost. At _checkers_. He groaned while Charlie fist-pumped and let out a whooping sound. She glanced at the clock and sighed, biting her lip. They had been sitting there for half an hour and she was procrastinating immensely with her paperwork. Castiel followed her gaze and frowned.

“Charlie, if I’m keeping you from something, you don’t have to stay.”

Charlie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “You are, and I wish you weren’t. ‘Cause this has been really fun.” She turned back to him and smiled warmly, teeth on full display. Castiel felt himself return the smile.

“I know. I had fun too, but if you need to be somewhere you can go,” he trailed off, shrugging.

Truthfully, he didn’t want her to leave, Charlie was definitely someone he could see himself being friends with. But she had a job and, frankly, he had one too. Having this much fun seemed almost wrong. Especially considering that Charlie was his _boss_. Charlie nodded and stood up, yawning and rolling out her shoulders. She winked at him and started walking towards the door. She was nearly at the doorway before Castiel realized something and called out to her. She turned around and raised her eyebrows, smirking.

“Scheduling a rematch?” She asked, voice mocking.

Castiel snorted and shook his head, running a finger along the table. It was a good idea, but not what he wanted to talk about. He looked up, eyes earnest.

“Thank you.”

Charlie’s eyes softened and she nodded, her smirk turning into a fond smile as she waved and left the room.

If things didn’t work out, at least Charlie was on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Charlie. Can you tell?
> 
> And now you're all caught up, I haven't finished any of this.
> 
> And I'm in college so I doubt I ever will. 
> 
> YAY!

**Author's Note:**

> I know 0% about Mental Hospitals or illnesses or basically anything.  
> I am 99% dumbass and 1% milk. 
> 
> Come bother me on Tumblr, no one talks to me enough ;-;  
> dontblinkitsacannibalimpala.tumblr.com


End file.
